


A Night Under the Stars

by pulpriter



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: AU/ future/pulpverse; twists, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 14:26:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5931694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulpriter/pseuds/pulpriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A faulty clue, a car that runs out of petrol, bad handwriting: what's not to like?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night Under the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> More Twists and Turns.  
> I don’t own these characters, they just do this stuff all on their own.  
> Please review, I love your comments.

The sun was about to dip below the horizon. A car pulled to a stop in a godforsaken spot far off the road. The man swung out of the passenger side of the car and strode up and down. There was nothing and no one to see.  
The woman, who had been driving, was a little slower. She was normally confident, but this had her feeling a bit unsure of herself. She didn’t care for the feeling of having been shown up in front of this man, who nonetheless would not be unkind about it.  
“This can’t be the right place,” the man said unnecessarily.  
The woman frowned. “It’s exactly where she said I should meet her,” the woman insisted.  
The man sighed. There wasn’t really an answer to that.  
The woman frowned again. “Unless…”  
“Unless?”  
“Unless—This was very quickly written. Could that possibly say ‘west’ instead of ‘east’? I’ve never known her to be so sloppy with her penmanship, but it must have been important for her to get away in a hurry.” She held the note up for the man to read.  
“Hmm. And she makes fun of _my_ handwriting,” he said in an undertone. “She certainly didn’t take much care with this. It is possible, I suppose, that it says ‘west’. Our current circumstances would suggest that we—misunderstood.”  
The woman, uncharacteristically, stamped her foot. “Damn it!” she swore. “What do we do now? We can’t get back in time, we’re nearly out of petrol…”  
The man looked up. “What?”  
The woman looked forlorn. “I thought she’d be here. I thought we’d all figure it out together. I—oh, hell, I shouldn’t even be a part of this. I’m sorry, Inspector. I should never have gotten involved. Now I’ve made a mess of things.”  
The man looked frustrated, but his words were still polite. “You were trying to help. I can’t blame you for that. And believe me, Doctor, I understand the impulse to jump in and try to fix things. But it never works with Ph—with Miss Fisher.”  
The woman rolled her eyes. “With the bloody mess I’ve gotten us into, you may as well call me Mac. And yes, I know you know Miss Fisher’s first name, too,” she teased.  
The man smiled. “And you know mine, too. Call me Jack.”  
“Everyone else does?”  
His eyes twinkled. “Everyone else does.”  
“So—Jack—how do we get out of the mess that I’ve gotten us into?”  
He considered. “Exactly how much petrol do you have?”  
“Not enough.”  
He could see she was embarrassed, but there was nothing for it. “How much?”  
“Not enough to get to the nearest town, I’m sure of that.”  
Jack heaved a sigh. “All right. Let’s head back the way we came, as far as we can. If we see anyplace— _any_ place—that might have a telephone, we stop there and try to reach Phryne. Failing that, we look for a sheltered place to stay the night.”  
“All right.” Mac got back into the car, and so did Jack. Once he was settled beside her, she said, “Jack, I’m sorry.”  
“If we can find a telephone, it will be a long night. If we can’t, it will be an even longer one. I’m sure either of those will be enough penance, you don’t need to apologize to me.”  
Mac nodded. Phryne had been right about him from the beginning. He was rather civilized, at that. 

The car coughed and slowed down. “Well, that’s it,” Jack pronounced. Mac steered to the side of the road and stopped the car before it stopped itself.  
They were nowhere near town, and they had not found a place with a telephone. They sat in the car and looked at each other. It was now quite dark. “I don’t suppose you have a torch,” Jack said, fairly sure he knew the answer.  
“No. I really didn’t plan ahead at all. Just leaped in the car and came to find you when I got Phryne’s note.”  
Jack nodded, and opened the car door, and got out. “In that case, Mac, I suggest you join me for a stroll.”  
Mac opened her door and came around to join him. “A pleasant evening stroll. Under the stars. Lovely.”  
“It is a pleasant evening—for a stakeout…”  
“The stakeout that never was!” Mac fretted. She hated to ask, but couldn’t stop herself. “You don’t think Phryne will be in any danger because we didn’t get there in time, do you?”  
“No, I don’t. When I don’t show up, I’m sure she’ll find Collins or some other policeman to do the honors. She’ll probably wonder where we got to, but I don’t think she’ll be in danger.” He had considered all these possibilities much earlier; it had seemed to him from the first that Mac was taking them in an unlikely direction, and he wouldn’t have taken the chance if he thought it might put Phryne at risk.

They stood and beheld the miserable little lean-to before them.  
Jack looked at his companion. “How brave are you, Mac?” he questioned.  
“Not that brave.”  
“It’s better than being exposed to the elements.”  
“Are you sure about that?” Mac looked at him rather desperately. “Wouldn’t it be just as good to keep walking? All night?”  
“You’re dead on your feet already!” Jack charged. “Come on.” He went ahead of her into the small building.  
She followed slowly after, and heaved a sigh.  
“It could be worse,” Jack pronounced.  
“How?” asked Mac sourly.  
Jack didn’t bother to answer, but pushed some rusty implements out of the way to clear a section of wall that they could lean against. It was a mild night, so he took off his overcoat and laid it on the ground and against the wall. He turned to Mac.  
“Just like Sir Walter Raleigh,” she said. “Very elegant.”  
He shrugged and sat down, and patted the coat beside him. “Come and share the elegance, then,” he said.  
“Are you serious?”  
“Do you have a better idea?”  
Mac gave in and sat down beside him. “I suppose not. I am the one who got us into this mess, after all.” She remembered her manners. “I appreciate you using your coat to make us more comfortable. Thank you.”  
“All part of the service at this fine establishment,” Jack said.  
“So…we should go to sleep?”  
Jack smiled. “I’m sure no one will mind, and we’ll be out of here soon enough in the morning. Good night, Mac.”  
“Good night…” 

Jack woke, for the third time that night. Mac couldn’t get comfortable, it seemed, and kept thrashing around trying to find a suitable spot. He was tired and had had enough.  
“Mac,” he said softly but with intensity. “Come here. Lean on my shoulder.”  
“No, I’m fine,” she said.  
“No, you’re not.” He pulled her against him. “Relax.”  
It took her a few moments to regain her voice. “You’re not really all that soft, you know,” she insisted.  
She could feel rather than see him shaking his head. He didn’t answer. Almost that quickly, he fell back to sleep—but this time, Mac settled down, too. It was a kind gesture, even if he was all angles and edges, she thought as she drifted off. 

Jack woke to the sound of a muffled gasp. He forced his eyes open, and saw Phryne standing before him in the doorway.  
“So. This is what you get up to the minute my back is turned,” she said softly.  
He gave her a slow smile, and looked down at Mac, curled up against his side. Phryne smiled to herself at the gentle way he nudged her and spoke to her. “Mac. Wake up, Mac.” Phryne appreciated his rough morning voice, though she was sure it was lost on Mac.  
Mac opened sleepy eyes and gave a bit of a start to see where she was. “Inspector!” she said with alarm.  
“Jack,” he corrected mildly. Mac pulled away from him and sat up, and saw Phryne regarding them with humor. Jack moved aside, stood and offered Mac a hand up.  
“Right. Jack.” Mac laughed as they both brushed themselves off.  
As Jack was putting himself to rights, he continued the thought, “You can’t sleep on someone’s shoulder all night and still use that person’s title.”  
Phryne took a step closer to Jack and murmured into his ear, “Oh, I don’t know about that, Inspector.”  
He turned to her, and murmured back, “You’re a special case, Miss Fisher.”  
“Stop that. You know, I can hear you both perfectly well,” Mac growled. “I want to go home.”  
“Speaking of that…I thought I’d never find the two of you. How did you ever end up here?”  
“Bad penmanship,” Mac said forcefully.  
Phryne blinked, and looked at Jack, who shrugged. “All right,” said Phryne, “I admit, that’s how I found you; I assumed you had gone the opposite direction for some reason. But why didn’t you just come home?”  
“Ran out of fuel,” Mac said, embarrassed.  
“Of all the—Mac, what were you thinking?”  
Mac made a face. “I was thinking I could be a detective, too. I have to solve all kinds of mysteries at the morgue. But nobody told me you had to think of things like having a torch along, and making sure you have enough petrol…” She trailed off.  
“And penmanship,” added Jack helpfully. 

They got into the Hispano and went in search of more fuel. Once they found some, they returned to Mac’s car and filled it. Ready to go their separate ways, Jack found he had a choice to make. He looked back and forth between the two cars, and grinned at Phryne. “Mac’s quite a good driver, you know,” he said. “And she follows the rules of the road.”  
“You can’t be serious. She can’t tell the difference between east and west.”  
Mac glared. “You’re doing it again. I can hear you both perfectly well.”  
“It wouldn’t be as much fun otherwise, darling,” Phryne said soothingly. “But I’m afraid you’ll be on your own from here on in. There are some details I need to discuss with the Inspector.”  
Jack patted the fender of the car. “Drive safely, Mac.”  
Mac waved and drove away. 

Jack looked questioningly at Phryne. “So. Details, Miss Fisher?”  
“Details, Inspector.” She took hold of his lapels. “I was very concerned when you didn’t arrive last night.”  
He appeared pleased to hear it, despite his words. “I’m sure you found a way to handle things without me.”  
She shrugged. “Yes, I did. Hugh managed to arrest the suspect and take him into custody. All very efficient.”  
“And…?”  
“No fun at all.”  
“No?”  
“No.” She took hold of his necktie. “Do you know, Hugh never offered to share a nightcap with me?”  
“What? Shocking.”  
“No denouement. Not even anyone to talk to who knew what a denouement would be. You can imagine my dismay.”  
“Hardly worth solving the crime.” His tie was completely undone by this point.  
“My thoughts exactly!” She started on the top button of his shirt. “And of course, wondering what had happened to you and Mac, when you were actually just out joyriding.”  
“There probably wasn’t as much joy as you’re imagining.”  
Her face suddenly turned serious. “What I was imagining was more tragedy than joy.”  
He took her hands and held them against his chest. “Yes. I’m sorry. There was no way to reach you.”  
“You’ll have to find a way to make it up to me.”  
“Will I?” His hands had let hers go and slid up into her hair. He loved the feel of it, sliding through his fingers.  
“Of course. You just spent the night with my best friend. And you expect me to put up with it.”  
“Your best friend wasn’t very happy to put up with it, either.”  
Phryne chuckled. “Poor Jack! And she snores.”  
Jack leaned in. “Yes, she does.”  
“But then, so do you.”  
He nuzzled her neck. It saved him from saying, “So do you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have two questions for my gentle readers:  
> 1) I’m a dreadfully disorganized writer. I wrote this story sometime after I posted Twists and Turns, and put it aside, thinking I should have included it there. Now I have rediscovered it. Should I repost in that collection?  
> 2) I have a long piece that has just been pouring out of my fingertips. Long for me, that is: 18 chapters, although those who read my stories will know that my chapters are not necessarily extensive. However, 18 chapters seems like a lot to read in one sitting. Should I post in groups of 3, perhaps, maybe every other day? What do readers like best?  
> Hope to hear from you. Thanks to all for reading.


End file.
